


Things Down South

by ForevermoreNevermore



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demon Deals, Loss of Grace, M/M, Purgatory, Reapers, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForevermoreNevermore/pseuds/ForevermoreNevermore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew was a college kid. Benny was a vampire. Samandriel was an angel. </p><p>And The Weenie Hut is still open for business (despite popular demand).</p><p> </p><p>  <i>The year is unknown, but in the eons that Samandriel had been alive it doesn't really matter. All he knows is that it doesn't really matter when it was as much as who it was.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Down South

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I really wanted to write something that went exactly with the time line of Supernatural. Well, as that turned out I can't really do... so this is as close to the original timeline as I could get with a few changes. Hopefully not too big. Anyway, this is a blast to write, so I hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading! Enjoy two of the cutest bugs to ever rug (which I suppose is in poor taste considering Matthew).

Every year at the same time, Benny gets an influx of customers. The sun's stay is just beginning to shorten, the gold is touching the green, and the college students think they're hot little shits.

"C'mon! Your hottest!" There was a rousing cheer from the people around the jumped up little turd. Didn't even know how the little shits found him. The old man who had a perpetual seat at the end of the bar rolled his eyes.

"You really don't want that. How 'bout we work you up from the baby gumbo?" The new challenger gave a roar of 'ha!' and Benny took that as a signature at the bottom of a death warrant. There was a pot on the back burner, simmering and hotter than Satan's shower, dented and shining dimly in the yellow late afternoon light. He scooped out a bowl, checking to make sure there was enough peppers in it. The grumpy old bear repeated his sentiment from earlier.

"Little shits."  

____________

 

The kid had tried the hottest gumbo once a week for a month. Just came in, plopped down at the bar, and resolutly ordered a bowl of "your hottest". Every time he only ate about three spoonfuls of it, but he left with eyes brimming with tears and a red nose. 

Slowly he'd become acquainted with the old grump who occupies the corner of the bar, talk spurned from accidental elbow brush apologies. Benny overheard that the kid's name was Matthew, migrated from Oklahoma for college, and looking to stay.

"It's really pretty," was his answer when asked why. "And this gumbo's fantastic." 

"Could've fooled me. Only eat three bites." Benny nudges playfully, leaning over onto the bar and offering a small smile. Matthew squinched up his face and glared down at the bowl.

"I'm trying to get better at eating it..." he offered weakly. "It's freaking hard."

"Well you're supposed to ease down the slope, kid, nope jump from the cliff."

And the next day he came in, Benny dumped the gumbo into a shot glass and slid it to him, offering him the explanation that it was too much waste. Matthew looked relieved and thankful, clinking his spoon against the glass in his haste. 

"Thanks!" Benny hardly heard it as the kitchen door swung shut. Later after the kid had left, Benny went to go clean off the bar and saw that the only thing left in the shot glass was the mangled body of a pepper, half bitten and obviously far too hot.

"You should've seen the kid take off..." the old man offered with a gruff cough of a laugh when Benny picked it up. Little twig of a kid... the pepper was the best part, and he said so.

The man gave a gruff 'neh'. "Give him time." 

And really that's all they had. Over the course of three semesters the kid kept coming back. He could eat the stuff faster, but never asked for more than the shot glass. Really was a shame, because so few people ever ate the hottest gumbo he served. Matthew even hit his twenty-first birthday when he was there, taking his first swig of beer with a squished face and a promise that he'll probably actually never drink that shit again. 

"It's an acquired taste," Benny offered lightly, glancing at the shot glass at Matthew's elbow. The kid looked down at it and shrugged.

"Two completely different kettles of fish there, Benny."

"You're just a little pansy." The old man gruffed, knocking back a whisky. 

"And you've got a torso in the grave."  Matthew retorted with a crooked grin. Then the grin left. "You know, in all this time I never got your name." 

The old man froze, gaze slowly traveling up to meet Benny's. Benny shrugged.

"You know kid, he's been sitting in that same spot for about five years and I don't even know his name." Matthew seemed about to argue the unlikely nature of it all, but then stopped and eyed his beer, then the shot glass, then the old man's shot glass. His gaze actually seemed to travel over a good dozen inanimate objects. Probably got broke by the logic of it all.

Suddenly Matthew turned, the round bar stool squeaking in protest as he whipped around and glanced around the restaurant. Benny tried to see what he was looking at, but the kid was never looking long enough for him to catch it. 

Just as quickly as he turned, he turned right back around. 

"Did you hear that?" he asked tentatively, uneasy with his own question. Benny listened for a moment, trying to tune out the radio perpetually playing old country and the low buzz of conversation. He hadn't heard anything suspicious.

"Didn't hear a thing," the old man beat him to it. "Probably going crazy."

Matthew just stared at the man, humorously aghast. 

"Maybe all that bug spray you wear's finally gotten to you. It's like you meandered through a swamp of the stuff." Benny throws a towel over his shoulder. Matthew's face closes off a bit.

"Well, I don't like bugs."

Benny offers a laugh to lighten up the mood. "Wise decision. The mosquitos down here could carry you off." And if the blood didn't rush out of the kid's face faster than the ocean split for Moses. 

The next time the kid came in, he was hunkered into a jacket. Somehow he managed to maneuver himself onto the chair, despite the bulk, and he let out a puff of wintery air. Benny felt the bite of the winter and reveled in it. 

"What's wrong, don't like a little cold?" The kid brightened up at the gumbo slid before him, this time in a small bowl. He was still grumpy though.

"No. I don't." This time he dug into the gumbo, and Benny wondered if he even tasted it or just welcomed the heat that was no doubt digging into the back of his throat and making his ears ache. He stayed for about an hour, face reddening at the toasty heat of the restaurant and spoon clicking absently at the bowl. 

"Why you still wearing the jacket?" Benny asked. Matthew was suddenly very interested in the whorls of the table. "It's not like it's cold in here."

"No..." Matthew agreed grudgingly. He shifted aside the thick gray of the coat and revealed a bright red and white striped shirt. It didn't really answer much until the kid flopped a red hat on his head, emblazoned with "Weenie Hut". 

"Oh Jesus kid, if you needed a job-" 

"No," Matthew sighed, "I'm filling in for a friend. He needed to study for a final and we look exactly the same. So..." He made a gesture with his hand and half frowned as if that could explain the rest of the story. 

"Shit..." Benny muttered. Matthew agreed and the old man barely kept in a wheeze of a laugh. He left then, ducking his neck down into the warmth of his body and becoming a great blob of gray. 

Benny didn't see him again for a few good weeks. 

"You think the Weenie Hut stole his soul?" Benny asked jokingly. The old man's look told him that it was entirely possible and not to second-guess the power of the Weenie Hut.

____________

 

Matthew Pike was hardly one to beat around the bush, but he still couldn't find the words to tell the guy no.

"Look, won't we get in trou-"

"C'mon, we look just alike." And it was true, Matthew had become friends with Alfie on an impulse of just how wierd it was that they looked so similar. Crooked grins, floppy hair, bone structure, it was to the point where he thought there had been an indescretion somewhere in his family. Matthew ran suddenly self-conscious hands over the front of his shirt, setting the red and white stripes flush against his stomach.

"Yeah, but..." The words just wouldn't come, so Matthew sufficed by flattening the line of his mouth and narrowing his eyes. Alfie shook it off, charismatic bastard.

"You can flirt with all the girls that come through."  Matthew felt his jaw slowly pushing his bottom molars up into his upper jaw.

"Only because you have a final. If you ever ask me again I'll shove the hat up your ass." Of course, covering for Alfie's procrastination. Matthew was prepared. Matthew was waiting at the bottom of the hill for his friend to catch up. But, he'd forgotten, that's obviously where the shit rolled. 

The Goddamned Weenie Hut.

It was a forboding red and white striped monstrosity built just a block from LSU, feeding on the souls and pocket change of poor college students who don't know any better. Its name was its menu and if that didn't make Matthew-cum-Alfie want to set it ablaze then he had some major self-evaluation to do. 

No sooner had he opened the door was he greeted with a noxious mix of half-cooked cow parts and a serious reconsideration of his life's occupation as a carnivore. So now he was going to be working all evening through the fumes and worrying that the manager would kick him out and fire Alfie. So, with that thought in mind it was obvious that that should be the first person he ran into when he got in the back. 

"Alfie..." then the man paused, the giant hulking six foot eight man stopped and peered down at the rather short Matthew. Then the manager with the name tag reading "Steve" ran a hand over his face in aggravation. 

"Matthew," he amended with no short supply of aggravation, "You know Alfie's lucky he just mops." Then he turned and went back to the office, closing the door behind him. Matthew hot-footed it around the kitchen, eyeing where they hid the cleaning supplies. It was a thrum of activity and molten hot grease, flipping occasionally onto the ground. The smell was horrible, and something told him that the off-brand Pine-Sol wouldn't help anything. 

"Hey Alfie!" One of the women called suddenly, carrying past a red plastic tray with seven hot dogs on it. She blew a blond splay of bangs away from her face and leveled him with a green stare. 

"Yes m'am?"

"Matthew." Then she rolled her eyes and sashayed through a maze of people. "Why you do these things for him I'll never imagine. Would you be a dear and go in the big walk in freezer and get me another bag of Hot Diggity Dogs?" The slightly 20's era lingo made Matthew smile a bit and he disappeared around the corner. The freezer's door was a maul before him and he welcomed the slightly chemically fresh smell and cool blast of air. The shoes caught traction on the frozen over floor and Matthew reached blindly for a bag of off-maroon meat sticks. Then it caught his eye, emblazoned on a box half filled with bags. 

Hot Diggity Dogs. 

Oh God, where was the humanity.

Matthew stepped further into the freezer, heading all the way towards the back to the unassumingly dignity-destroying box. Upon closer inspection of the hot dogs in the bag, there were red flecks dancing in the meat. Pepper flakes, and oh God who would eat those enough that there were only three bags left. 

Now there was something akin to fear roiling in his stomach. Raze the place to the ground or lock himself in the freezer. Two equally appealing choices. Yet-

"Matthew." The voice was in his ear and thrumming down his spine. It was trumpets and harps and slightly snippy. 

He turned on his heel and nearly slipped into the floor. "What?" The frost-covered wall touched his back. There was no one there. He called a little louder, to see if they had run outside (in two seconds). 

It wasn't a set word this time, so much as a feeling, starting to the right of his ear and vibrating the side of his neck. Matthew turned slowly, eyes leveling on a lone tater tot sitting on the shelf, indifferent. 

No.

It thrummed again, and Matthew took a careful step back until he was flush to the back wall.

"God is calling." The tater tot said. So maybe people weren't lying about religious experiences and food. But he had heard the voice before, in the back of his mind at the restaurant.

"Can he call back when I'm not in a freezer?" Matthew asked quietly, half weary that his cheekiness would get him smited, half nervous someone would walk in and see him talking to the tater tot that time forgot. 

The answer was a resounding wave of feeling and dug into the cartiledge at the back of his knees and nearly sent him collapsing into the floor. He caught himself against the Hot Diggity Dog box, but not before one knee collided painfully with the floor. He hissed.

"Okay, okay. What does God want?" He'd experienced wierder things. 

"You're a vessel." The word hung ominously in the air, thrilling and nearly tangible. Matthew repeated it, eyeing the frost crystals dancing in the air with the word. 

"What's a vessel?"

"It's in your blood. You will house the spirit of an angel as it moves about on Earth." An angel. Matthew attempted to pull himself back onto his feet, then thought better of it and crouched down.

"Like a puppet?" He could practically feel a nod. "Well, can it be a bit later I promised someone I would fill in for them at work."

"Do you mean to tell me that a job at the Weenie Hut is more important than fulfilling your role in God's plan? You are integral, Matthew." The voice was louder in its intonation and it hurt at the base of his neck. The hair on his arms was raised now.

"No, no that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that I made a promise, and I figured I should keep that..."

A loud keen struck out in the air, and the freezer was pitched into darkness as it closed. Matthew shoved the heels of his hands against his ears to keep out the mosquito noise but it rose above, the angel's words carried with it.

"I need your body. Matthew, it is your job and your destiny to do this. Your lineage has brought you up to this point. Do not disappoint. Say yes."

"Lineage? I was bred for this?" There was an unspoken groan of aggravation from the voice, but it might've just been Matthew's imagination as he couldn't hear jack shit over the clacking of his teeth. The tater tot was lost in the darkness, but that was actually quite a blessing. Who could take a shredded potato seriously anyway? 

"Is there any particular reason why you need my body?" Matthew asked finally, rubbing his hands together for any spark of heat left. He couldn't feel his toes and the light hairs standing up on his arms were practically to cracking point.  

"As an angel I have no other body. To move about in the world below I have to have a vessel, a form, you. Other than that I can just do miscellaneous miracles and that is going to help nobody at this time." Matthew would've thought on this for a moment, as the loaning of a body really did seem like something that needed to be pondered and thought over. For at least an hour. However, the cold air was beginning to lose its bite, turning lukewarm on his suddenly warming toes. A walk in freezer shouldn't be that cold.

"Are you... is it so cold in here because of you?" Somehow the words were understandable through the clattering of his jaw. The silence was almost sheepish, but then it was booming in a way that almost hit him like a slap to his cheek, running up into his hair and settling on the swirl where the roots at the back of his head began.

Decide.

"Can't I have time to figure this out?" The silence was the most effective no he'd ever received in his life. He was uneasy and cold and talking to a fucking tater tot. 

"Okay!" He thought he shouted, but the pounding of his blood in his own ears made the sound come through cotton. "Fine! It's all yours!" 

The feeling at the back of his head grew to a near handprint, roving down to the back of his neck in a gentle swish, almost as if someone was right in front and cupping him closer for a kiss or something. He could pinpoint a small light in the distance, so he squinted uneasily at it. The little light grew and grew until he was nearly blinded, and the hand managed to-

The yelp was noiseless and prompted by the unfamiliar sensation of a hand crawling under his skin and down his spine, weaving along his vertebrae and down the tendons and ligaments of his arm. Another hand followed, following the same pattern down his other arm. But, instead of feeling creeped out he just felt heavy and warm, that numb I-never-want-to-move a person gets when they just wake up. He was being put on like a suit, but the way the stranger-

Samandriel, a voice echoed from the echoes at the back of his neck. Samandriel was the angel's name, and he was putting on Matthew like a suit. Ministrating and conducting the college kid until he was just right, pushing and prodding gently as a kitten on a cushion.

But he didn't mind, really, because he was busily in the process of falling asleep in a walk in freezer. 

______________________

 

Steve wasn't the perfect manager, but he was attentive. He was attentive to notice that the kid who usually mopped the floor had been missing for twenty minutes. Of course, it wasn't the kid who usually did the floors, just the better mannered doppelganger. Nevertheless...

"Has anyone seen Alfie slash Matthew?" He called at the cooks. Hardly anyone glanced away from their stations, just offered small shrugs. Sarah glanced away with an angry turn of the head, blond hair frizzing in the humid air.

"Yeah, I told him to go get some Hot Diggity Dogs out of the freezer like, half an hour ago." Her ruddy face split into a frown and she added quieter, "they're not that hard to find, are they?" The woman next to her gave an indifferent shrug and turned a sizzling hot dog. 

Steve let out a groan and turned to the freezer. It'd had a history of sticking and there was a special kind of jimmy it needed to get it open. And of course, there it was closed tight. Poor kid was probably a popsicle at this point. 

He'd almost reached the door when it gave an almighty creak and opened with an exhalation. The cold that radiated all the way over to Steve was obscenely cold, like what he expected penguins to put up with. 

"What were you do-" It opened all the way and Matthew walked out, lips blue and nose red like he'd dipped it in red paint. There was no approachable slump or slight smile. Nothing that even resembled the kid who'd walked in less than an hour ago. Tall, proud, pole in his spine. His blue eyes were as cold and sharp as a glacier. "Matthew?"

The kid ignored him, sweeping past with a weird grace that didn't belong in a candy-striped Weenie Hut outfit. The wider the freezer opened, the more Steve felt unease creeping into the arctic air. He inhaled sharply and it bit at his nostrils and all the way down. 

"Matthew!" He called, a bit more force behind it. Matthew stopped, and he rotated his head around to stare at him. His face was contradicting itself, nose squished up in distaste but his eyes were wide and wandering, soaking in everything like he'd never seen anything. 

"I, uh..." the mouth moved strangely around the words, like he was unsure how to use it. "I quite."

Steve gave a snort and closed the freezer in an attempt to pack up all of the unease back into the damn box. 

"Nice try, you don't work here." He heard the kid give a quiet 'oh' behind his back, as if he didn't freaking know. He turned to finish his statement. "But-"

The words died on his tongue. Matthew was nowhere to be seen. No hide, no hair. Steve peeked around the corner at the cooks to see no trace of the blond kid. 

Okay...

Attempting to clean up his now frazzling mind, he snapped at the person in drive through. 

"Hey! Don't leave the window open like that! I think a bird got in here, I heard it flapping around." 


End file.
